


Absolute Beginners

by subversivegrrl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12580952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subversivegrrl/pseuds/subversivegrrl
Summary: Does Carol still have a place among them, or is this only temporary? Written after "No Sanctuary" and before "Strangers" first aired.





	Absolute Beginners

_As long as we're together_

_The rest can go to hell_

\--David Bowie

* * * * *

"You were worried."

She's been listening to him work up to it for a while, as they keep watch under the massive live oak at the far end of the clearing. Probably not the smartest idea, pairing them up like that - clearly his mind isn't strictly on the task at hand, and lord knows her own senses are more keyed in to him than to the night around them, like they should be - but the moment Rick asked Daryl to take the first shift Carol had stepped up next to him, and none of the rest thought to balk her on that. Not after they'd witnessed how he’d flown to her, wrapped himself around her, rocked her in his arms like he’d never let her go again. No one even considered it. They’d all seen how things are with them.

Several times now he's taken a deep breath and then blown it back out, like a free diver preparing to go under for a long stretch. Deep waters indeed, for the man he’d once been. He shifts the Stryker again, resting it in front of him and propping his chin on the butt of it, but she can feel his eyes shift her way now and then, considering... whatever it is he has to say.

She lets him work through it on his own, knowing it’s just his way and there’s no rushing him. First he has to wrestle with what he’s feeling, give it a name, then decide if it’ll be worse to swallow it or to spit it out. After that it will take him a while longer to sort through the words and line them up, so he gives away nothing he doesn’t intend to. He’s as careful in this as in everything, that wary caution that is her familiar companion as well. Especially now, when in taking on their safety as her responsibility, she’s set herself apart from her family again.

"I saw your face when you came in. You were - scared." His face is turned toward her, a pale blur under the half-moon, and she can see the tightness across his brow, his eyes squinted almost shut, as though he fears to hear her reasons. "Did you think…?"

She had tried not to think too much, honestly - hadn't allowed herself to think past getting them out of that hellhole (the echo of _I want the kid's hat after they bleed him out_ sends a pulse of nausea shuddering through her) and seeing for herself - just once - that they were alright. Beyond that she had already resigned herself to moving on, making a new beginning, finding what might be out there for her. Because as far as she knew, Rick had been right, and none of them would want her with them anymore. Not after what she'd done, no matter how noble her intentions had been in the doing.

Now she’s all a-jumble. If the sight of them all again hadn't done her in so completely - battered and filthy and alive, so beautiful in her eyes that the vision nearly dropped her to her knees in gratitude - then Daryl's reaction would have. His headlong lurch, three strides and he clutched her to him, ragged sobbing breaths in her ear, his face buried in her neck, his awe and relief and joy cascading over both of them, and all she could do was wrap her arms round him and hang on for the ride. She flexes her fingers, recalling the squeak of his leather vest under her hands, the snarl of his hair against her cheek. Even now she isn’t entirely convinced the whole thing hadn’t been a fantasy.

“I didn’t know,” she says. “I couldn’t be sure... “ She breaks off as he gives a sharp _hahh_ of disgust and spits off to the side. “I still don’t. You don’t know what I’ve done, Daryl.”

He sighs then, that same _hahh_ , but softer, and shakes his head. “I know exactly. What you had to, is what. Anyone who says otherwise don’t know you. I’m still wanting to hear your side, but it won’t change nothing. What’s done is done. I trust you.”

It’s so perfectly, bluntly Daryl that a fist forms in the back of her throat, choking off the words of protest she expected to need to counter him. And it’s enough to undo days of control, holding herself in check, getting through another hour without breaking down.

The motion of his hand blurs wetly in the corner of her vision. “Here,” he says, and for a moment as she reaches toward him she thinks he’s offering her a tissue, but it’s only his skin, warm and solid beneath her fingers. He wraps them within his palm, his thumb clasping the back.

“No more going it alone, you hear me? I’ll back your play, but if we’re gonna do this together, you gotta let me in.”

It’s dark, and the night holds unknown terrors, but her new beginning is right here.


End file.
